


Director Stark

by Berchtwald



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Tony being in charge of things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berchtwald/pseuds/Berchtwald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers and The Winter Soldier AU, playing fast and loose with Agents of SHIELD continuity.</p><p>Coulson needs time, money, technology, and a solid defense against Hydra.  It's either genius or the biggest mistake of his career to step down and appoint Tony Stark as Director of SHIELD, but a Stark in SHIELD was a good idea once upon a time.  And with Stark comes JARVIS as well as Iron Man.  Tony likes the uniforms, the new sense of purpose, and, surprisingly to him, spending time with Steve.  Even if Steve comes with the problem of Bucky Barnes.</p><p>Or, how Iron Man of the MCU was Director, without causing Civil War first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

SHIELD did so love to meet in diners for their clandestine meetings. It made perfect sense to Tony, he didn’t complain, just smirked at Agent Coulson in the cheap plastic booth and took a quick look around. Not a spy, but Iron Man life gave one a greater situational awareness. Enough to be reasonably certain the diner was not actually populated with SHIELD agents. Coulson looked the same as ever… the _alive_ part was still a trip, but the phone call setting up this date had been the part where Tony had really been reeling over that.

Tony strolled over to the table and slid in the other side of the booth, flipping his sunglasses up to give Coulson an exaggerated once-over. 

“Really not dead, huh?” 

“Really not dead,” Coulson confirmed. “Coffee?” He didn’t wait for a ‘yes’ so Tony didn’t give him one, just watched the not-dead man pour out of a battered carafe into a cup he then slid over to Tony. 

“So why are we here, Agent Phil?” Tony asked, folding the sunglasses on the table. 

“Director, actually,” he answered. 

“Congratulations, I guess. That kind of seems like a shit-show job.” 

“Kinda. We’re rebuilding, but we do have a lot of work to do. Resources we could use. A new ‘Carrier would be nice.” 

Tony laughed and sipped his coffee, making Coulson wait a moment, just smiling blandly and patiently while Tony smirked over the cup. 

“So you want tech and a loan, is that it?” 

“Not specifically. I have work to do, expanding like we have to takes more time than I have. Doing job interviews and running operations at the same time doesn’t leave much time for _Call of Duty._ ” 

“I need to get you some real video games.” 

“There’s no need to be insulting, Stark.” 

Tony chuckled. This coffee was terrible but he wasn’t sorry he’d come. 

“So you want Hill back? You can have her, she’s glorious Stark security but I’m sure sooner or later she’s going to go running back to you again. Don’t be shocked, but I do know a thing or two about loyalty. And spotting it.” 

“We do want Hill back. As your second in command.” 

Tony put the cup down and looked suspiciously into Phil’s continued bland smile. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m too busy for big conference room meetings and pulling R&D together, Stark, I have work to do. I want to step down and make you Director of SHIELD.” 

Now Tony looked around the diner, but nobody was looking in their direction, the waitress was even ignoring the guys in suits. No security cameras. 

“This is a joke, right? Let me guess, Fury’s not dead either and he’s about to jump out with a box of confetti and we’re all on Candid Camera. You didn't even want me _in_ your treehouse, remember?” 

“No joke. We can keep an eye on you while you keep an eye on us. The Captain was a natural leader while you were in the field, but we’ve got a pile of evidence that you can orchestrate more than just a hostile corporate takeover. SHIELD needs to change, and despite many of my agents giving me the stinkeye for believing in you, I think another Stark is what we need. Things have changed since your initial assessment was made by Agent Romanoff.” 

Tony rubbed his eyes and _thought_. About Howard, about how Pepper had the company and he had his projects and paranoia to keep him busy. 

“I guess it’d be something to do,” Tony remarked. 

“I’ll have you removed the second I lose faith in your abilities.” 

“Faith?” Tony scoffed. “Now I know I’m in trouble.” 

He gave it a week.

. . . 

_Six Months Later_

“Good morning, Sir. The time is zero-six forty-three and the SHIELD Carrier is presently stationary one mile off the coast of New York. Agents Hill and Brand are requesting your presence.” 

JARVIS’s voice accompanied the lights in the Garage coming up, gradually, small mercies. Tony groaned and pulled the wool blanket over his head, perfectly happy to stay huddled up on his comfortable cot in a tucked-away corner of the workshop. Tony’s other other office, these days. 

“Why?” he whined, rubbing his face under the blanket. He was up, there was no going back to sleep. 

“Captain Rogers is reporting in, sir.” 

Captain America was always worth getting up for, right? He'd better have good news. 

“I’m up, I’m up! Tell Hill I'm there in five.”


	2. Little Man in a Big Suit

As it turned out, skin-tight jumpsuits were awfully practical and comfortable. Particularly when one knew one could fill it out just fine, even compared to the military officers and super-trained spies and what-have-you that Tony was surrounding himself with these days. Even when some insisted on calling them ‘catsuits’ like they were in a bad 60’s TV show and all had been hired for their curves. It wasn’t just Lycra, of course, it was a modified suit he’d built to wear under his armor, with some additions: the SHIELD patch on his shoulder, the shoulder holster that Maria Hill had made him _earn_ on the shooting range and combat simulations. Endless, endless drills and workouts from the slave-driver Sub-Director, but those had helped with filling out the suit, too. As if he didn’t know how to use a weapon. As if he hadn’t been training every day he had his feet on the ground since he was in his 20’s.

Tony wasn’t Nick Fury, but he still wore black in contrast to the other agents in their uniform navy blue. He could wear whatever he wanted to, but he was having fun with this instead of a suit. Maria did have the benefit of not having to fit inside the Iron Man suit, so she could have the fun armor-plated boots with the aggressive heels, and sure, he was a little jealous, just not enough to go modifying things. 

He walked out onto the bridge, what the veteran agents called _the carpet_ , with a grin on his face. The first thing he saw was Steve seeing _him_ and giving a tolerantly amused smile over the monitor. Steve looked perfect and sunny as ever, even with a streak of dirt across his cheek and a bloody rip in the shoulder of his uniform, his dark shadow falling on a brick wall behind him. 

“Director,” Steve said, as Tony walked up between the two uniformed women on the raised platform overlooking the control center. 

Most female agents wore aggressive heels of one variety or another and this pair was no exception, dwarfing him just a _smidge_ as he compensated by taking up as much space as he could, arms akimbo and legs like he was worried the ‘Carrier might lurch at any moment. 

“Captain. Still surprised they haven’t defenestrated me high over the Atlantic yet?” 

“Rogers confirmed the presence of the Hydra remnant in D.C.,” Agent Brand cut in shortly. She didn’t so much as look at Tony, one of those left in SHIELD that was insulted by being led by anything less than James Bond in the flesh (or something), but he refused to take being judged by anybody with _green hair_ seriously. 

Tony went over to the displays and began bringing up data with deft fingers, the details he’d missed while he was dozing. Sleep was so irritating. 

“Confirmed and eliminated,” Hill dryly added. “Made contact for clean-up.” 

Tony’s fingers paused as he looked at her, then Steve. “Casual Fridays being implemented was not an invitation to play fast and loose with protocol,” he pointed out. “You’re going to be the death of me, don’t think you can get out of it by being pretty.” 

Brand scoffed, Hill did nothing. Steve didn’t blush this time. 

“There wasn’t time to wait for backup,” Steve insisted. “It was safe.” 

“I want a quarter-mile radius of that building locked down until I can sweep the tech,” Tony said. “No, make that a hundred feet at that population density.” They almost _missed something_ in the last nest they’d stamped out, that wasn’t happening again. He kept reading the data, six Hydra agents down, knocked out for now. Another of their sites taken out, another tiny head (or piece of tail, at least) of the near-Nazi leviathan severed and could-only-hope not springing up two more. 

“Fucking Hydra,” Tony grumbled under his breath. “What do we have for coverage in that area?” 

“Satellite visual, a team enroute, seven minutes,” one of the chorus in the control pit called up. 

“JARVIS?” 

“Confirmed, sir. An exterior traffic camera to the southwest and northeast ends of the building have ensured no unauthorized egress through the ground level exits. No heat signatures inside the premises detected. Scanning for further input.” There was something intentionally flat about JARVIS when he was talking in public, which Tony understood. Even here, the AI felt more comfortable when people underestimated how much Intelligence was involved. 

“I’m going to do the final sweep. Give me…” 

“Eighteen minutes at top cruising speed and altitude,” JARVIS supplied. 

“Eighteen minutes, I’ll be there, give or take,” Tony told Steve on the screen. “We’ll get breakfast after cleanup.” 

“Director Stark, we have a meeting at oh-ten…” 

“I know, Maria, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winked at her and strolled back off the bridge. 

“I feel like I’m in college again,” Tony heard, muffled, as the doors closed. 

His suits now stood along the wall in the main hanger, closed and secured with a strap in case of chaos. And to deflect from the mag-seal to the floor that prevented someone from carrying one off. It was convenient, how he could have one waiting for him right by the back door, this wasn’t his first time rushing out of a briefing and into hands-on. It was the black one standing there open and ready, all stealth and speed without the heavy weapons, but these days a first choice whenever he left the ‘Carrier. His agents hated that, the rushing out, tackling the field so hard; his agents. Rocky moments or not, that was starting to really sink in. 

He sometimes wondered if Coulson gave him this job because it was so difficult for Tony to trust anybody more than superficially. That, and Tony Stark was _very certainly not Hydra._ That was the kind of reassurance SHIELD needed as much as anything, these days. It just wasn’t ideal for team-building from the top-down. 

Slowly but surely, even the dubious were starting to realize he wasn’t such an awful choice for Director. Tony was great at keeping secrets, the best; he was so good because he acted like he couldn’t hold back a fun fact from the press to save his life. All the while keeping his tech locked down tight, certain details of his life not making it to a file to get redacted if he didn’t want them to. Running classified R &D teams was surprisingly good training for running espionage teams, as long as he listened to Maria about tactical choices. Which he did. 

Being relied on was a lot of pressure. Maria and Pepper just kept reminding him that pressure made him more effective. 

All the same, it was a relief to let the suit wrap around him and leap out into the sky, displays guiding him over the sparkling water to his target to the south. Safe, wrapped up, alone with JARVIS, who had already learned to take a tactful moment of silence before cornering him with business. Just let the wind blow in his ears, the rush of the repulsors sending him through the clouds. 

Just Iron Man, all that potential he and his daddy never told him that he believed in until it was too late. Howard never made Director. 

“Sir, you have twenty priority unread messages, seven voice messages, and one email from Miss Potts.” 

“Read it back. In her voice,” Tony asked. 

Pepper’s voice filled the helmet then, a simulation, but JARVIS was damned good at those. 

_“I missed you again last night, Tony. I don’t think I’m ever going to get over not knowing exactly what you’re up to all the time, but I know you’re around the kind of people that can take care of you.”_

Tony laughed and smiled as he pushed at the top speed barriers of the suit. 

_“Get back to me when all your superhero superspy business lets you. I am expecting romance, soon. Candles and wine and dinner and being made to feel like the girlfriend of the smartest, most influential man in the world. Soon, or I’m putting you on probation.”_

“JARVIS, do I have any classy nude selfies I haven’t sent her yet? Something taken in my office. The big office.” 

“A dwindling selection, sir, I believe I can choose the appropriate response.” 

“Do that. No text. Schedule me for a date… when do I have time for a date?” 

“Barring international incident, sir, you should be free this evening.” 

“Send her a time and don’t let me be late.” 

“As you wish, sir.” 

“I love you, too, JARVIS.” 

There was no response to that, but Tony didn’t need one. 

Tony went through the rest of the messages briskly, and soon he was hovering over Washington with a display of agent, civilian, and formerly hostile positions in his view, next to the readouts on signals from the area. Nothing suspicious, nothing active being broadcasted from the abandoned brownstone in question. 

There was a van out front, already being filled with the Hydra agents. 

“JARVIS, do your thing on everything you can tap into in that building.” 

“I cannot detect any networked computers or devices not in SHIELD custody at this time, sir.” 

They worked together on the problem for a few minutes, as soon as he was inside the townhouse-turned-bunker; in less time than it took Tony to get there, he’d downloaded every piece of data on-site, wiped their small collection of non-networked towers, checked in with the other on-site agents, and declared the scene properly cleaned up. He hadn’t really needed to show up, but he felt better, anyway. 

And there was breakfast with Captain America. 

Fifteen minutes after that, the suit was standing in front of the diner two blocks away. Another plastic booth, and this time he was the one waiting with coffee. 

Steve came in, looking only a little awkward. “You closed the place down for us?” he asked, gesturing at the OPEN side of the sign flipped to the inside. 

“And already ordered. Out of pocket. And I don’t get a SHIELD salary, as if they had money to afford me. It’s more like the other way around… that sounds bad.” 

“No,” Steve assured him, all shoulders and leather as he slid into the seat across from Tony, shield carefully propped up beside him. He made Tony feel even smaller, compared to all that he was slight frame and muscle in the _catsuit_. “I would be lying if I didn’t think you might take some liberties with funding most of SHIELD out of your own fortune these days…” 

“Not entirely, I’m very good with finagling expenses.” 

“And you built the new helicarrier in three months. Instead of turning it into a pleasure boat you had the World Security Council backing you a month after that.” 

“I did give myself a bigger office,” Tony chuckled, hiding a defensive, internal knee-jerk response. “So glad I’m not a disappointment. They were, I think they liked holding the SHIELD budget over everyone’s heads.” 

Steve hummed in agreement, taking a little sit-rep out the window that he attempted to make a casual glance, but Tony was getting to know the ways of spies and soldiers too well. And he wasn’t one to judge, not with JARVIS constantly scanning the area from the suit outside. 

“I’m not just doing you a favour because you’re helping me find Bucky,” Steve said, something in his voice softening. “I’m trying to tell you that you’ve done a good job so far. No international incidents, yet.” A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, the sort one would give to a child they were placating. Maybe someone told him to say that for the benefit of the Director’s self-esteem. Fitting, because Tony felt like a little kid half the time Steve was looking at him. But it wasn’t usually in a bad way anymore, not now that he was really getting to know the man beyond childhood stories, impossible standards, and comic books. 

“Bucky doesn’t want to be found,” Tony reminded him, and managed not to sound defensive. Because he was _trying_ to help find him, he really was. But James B. Barnes was _good_ at not being found, wasn’t that frustrating. 

“I know,” Steve sighed. “I know.” He looked forlornly into his coffee, shoulders rounded like he hated to be the broad-and-tall figure he cut in the booth. Or he was tired of propping up what he did. 

Heart on his sleeve, and it made Tony smile, in spite of everything. It was hard not to smile around Steve, when they weren’t screaming at each other. He wasn’t sure when _that_ happened. Pepper might know. Or JARVIS. Definitely Natasha, but he wouldn’t ask _her_ and risk one of those appraising looks that was clearly updating some file she kept on him in her head. 

“I wouldn’t worry Cap, road trips always get old, sooner or later. He’ll turn up when he gets hungry, like one of those cats that wander off.” 

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, but his mood broke with an exasperated smile. “Really?” 

“Take it from me, Steve. Sometimes you gotta laugh so you don’t cry.” He reached across the table and patted Steve’s arm. The body heat coming off that man cut right through the leather. 

“Does that really work?” Steve asked. 

Tony took his hand back before it got awkward. He didn’t want to. 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” 

“So far, Stark. So far.”


	3. Modern Romance

The worst part of the job was public relations. And _government_ relations.

The World Security Council was a close second, but they seemed to have realized that, for now, there was no ousting Tony until he screwed up hard enough. Tony was reasonably certain that would happen sooner or later, but not quite _yet,_ so they groused and put up with him. He wondered if Nick Fury was more or less of a pain in the ass. At least he could tell the WSC how he _really felt_ , instead of the smiling and being on his best behaviour in front of cameras and elected officials. Not _too_ well behaved, someone might get suspicious, but it was still a headache every time. Even just _practicing_ over his desk, smiling at Maria as she scrutinized him over her tablet, he felt a growing tightness at the back of his skull. 

Maria’s 10am meeting was half personnel files, half coaching him on what to say in front of Congress the next afternoon. With a coda of haranguing him for this and that, but he only pretended to mind that. 

As usual, lunch was brought to his office by Agent Clay Quartermain, military liaison, who never seemed to mind munching on sandwiches over Tony’s desk. Tony ate with one hand and signed documents with the other, and still managed to chat while JARVIS took notes for him. Quartermain was all naturally charming blonde smiles, but with something more wicked and jaded than Steve. (And he realized that comparing pretty blonde men to Steve was probably indicative of something.) It used to be that Quartermain worked for General Ross, trying to hunt down the Hulk, but now that Bruce Banner lived a few floors down from the Director of SHIELD the so-called Hulkbusters were more or less disbanded and Quartermain had to sign up for a different impossible task. Getting Tony Stark and the US Army to agree on things again. 

That particular afternoon, Tony found himself brushing crumbs out of his mustache and watching Quartermain’s eyes glittering as they looked at him. Leaning forward a little more than people in that chair usually did with a happy look on their face. _Huh._ Maybe the guy had a crush on him. That would explain the lunch date meetings, but either way, Tony decided he didn’t mind. Nice to keep around, but more like the perpetual motion balls on Tony’s desk than a love interest, not that he’d say that out loud. 

Thinking about Steve tossing his golden hair, pulling on his uniform and his game face, all stoic and chiseled for _freedom_ and kicking ass… they were images that came up just comparing him to someone else. 

_Steve, Steve, Steve._ This was getting distracting. 

He managed to get back to Avengers Tower before he needed to, _not_ completely lost in the Garage, which made him feel a little proud of himself. Tony flew in with the usual red-and-gold on, then the gantry on the penthouse floor stripped and tucked Iron Man away as Tony walked inside. 

Making a beeline for the bar, he hopped up on a stool and poured out a whiskey. 

“JARVIS, I need to make romance tonight,” he said, as if JARVIS didn’t know that and just about everything, and tapped the black surface of the bar. The whole surface was an interface, now. 

Pictures of roses, teddy bears, fuzzy handcuffs in pink, and every other variety of chick flick cliché filled up the bar as it went from shining black to light and motion, and Tony began scrolling with an idle finger as he drank. Through a whole series of images, before hastily flicking back to the start; roses. 

“I want this place filled up with bouquets. Nice ones, the ones that _smell_ like roses,” Tony declared. “And some petals so I can sprinkle the way into the bedroom. And candles, pink candles. No, cream,” he said, tapping on a photo of just what he wanted. “And Italian for dinner, something nice. Would diamonds somewhere be too much?” 

“An extravagant gift may be indicative of guilt on your part, sir.” 

“What do I have to be guilty about?” 

“Precisely, I’m sure.” 

“Okay, no diamonds. I’ve been a good boy,” he insisted. 

“The flowers are expected to arrive in one hour, dinner will be ordered appropriately, sir.” 

“Perfect.” Tony swept it all aside and took another, thoughtful sip of whiskey. “Connect to the SHIELD database and bring up Agent Quartermain’s file,” he decided. 

JARVIS didn’t answer this time, just filled the bar with the data; a file photo, pages of assessments and previous assignments and everything else a good director’s cut SHIELD personnel file was stuffed with, down to his SAT scores and his address history. Tony swiped through all that. 

It was peaceful, sitting up in the highest point of the open penthouse living room. That window he’d been tossed out once upon a time still had a view he could appreciate, letting in the last of the sun over the stone floors and the sleek, cozy inset sitting area. He thought about music, but the quiet was good. Noticeable, after so much time on the ‘Carrier, inside the hum of engines and electricity surging through the walls. Tony took a moment to soak it in, and consider his military liason’s possible designs on _lisasing._

“I think he’s got the hots for me.” 

“Is that a problem, sir?” JARVIS asked, a touch of wry amusement coming through the speakers. 

“Not if it’s true. I’m adopting the Nick Fury school of paranoia and watching my back-slash-ass,” Tony replied. “Do you know what a honeypot is?” 

“I believe I can gather your meaning in this context. Do you believe his former superiors are capable of that level of intrigue? That is what your organization is for now, sir.” 

“The CIA is still a thing, baby. And the US of A still has a problem with putting a lot of faith in international anything… and what was it Director Brennan called me?” 

“A weaponized drinking problem, sir?” 

“That wasn’t very nice. It could have hurt my feelings,” Tony snorted, smirking as he kept scanning through Quartermain’s file. 

“It was in a private communication not intended for official publication, sir. Or your own notice.” 

Tony hummed noncommittally. 

“And if I may, would not a female agent following your usual profile of paramours be a more likely so-called ‘honeypot’ trap, sir?” JARVIS asked, and it was a fair question. 

The rest of the glass was downed as Tony considered that. He rolled his shoulders and set it aside, waiting a moment for another. 

“That would be too obvious,” he decided. “I haven’t forgotten about Natasha.” But he had _forgiven_ her. Now that he was sitting on the other side of the fence it was hard to hold a lot of things SHIELD had done against any of them. 

The rest of his answer was, for once, something to talk about with Pepper before JARVIS. 

By the time their date rolled around, the penthouse was full of red and pink roses, the air wafting with the perfume. Pillar candles burned and the overhead lights were turned down, enough to let the city outside glitter and gleam. 

Tony had changed out of his uniform and into a dress shirt, vest, and slacks, all black and dark green, with a dark gold tie. Plenty of layers for Pepper to unwrap later, she liked that. And he liked how he looked in the closely tailored clothes, checking himself out for a narcissistically long time before draping himself over the sofa in wait, just as soon as JARVIS told him she’d entered the building and dinner was on its way shortly. 

He was cradling a glass of red wine, another waiting on the table by the bottle and a cluster of candles, when the elevator door opened. 

Pepper was impeccable as ever, all pristine white suit today, with a pencil skirt and a tie of her own. It brought out the colour of her hair around her shoulders and the pink flush of her skin. She paused and took everything in a moment, smiling benevolently before her heels clicked sharply along the stone floor. 

Without a word, she put her briefcase down, then stepped primly down to Tony’s level, claiming her own glass before doing the same at Tony’s side. 

He straightened up to take her free hand and kiss her knuckles, earning a soft laugh and a sigh. “I do declare, Mr. Stark.” 

“That you love me desperately? I know the feeling.” 

“You loving yourself was never a secret,” she teased, squeezing his fingers. Their hands stayed clasped together as they rested on Tony’s thigh. She slowly rubbed a manicured thumb over his knuckle as they took each other in. 

Tony gazed at her, loving and assessing her physical and mental state, and she was clearly doing the exact same thing. They spent too much time apart. 

Everything felt so much more certain, stable, and easy now that she was there. 

“How’s my company?” he finally asked. 

Pepper smirked and sipped her wine, leaving a crimson stain on the edge of the glass. “As well as can be expected when its owned by Big Brother,” she said dryly. “But I think we’re making it out of the initial impact, which I can explain at length if you really want to talk shop.” 

“No. I know you’re happy when your charges are all behaving,” Tony answered, with a genuine smile. 

“Are they?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighed, looking out the window as he finished his wine in a single gulp. He put the glass aside and avoided the temptation to fill it back up again. 

“What is it?” she asked, with an edge of concern. 

“Nothing… bad,” Tony honestly responded, meeting her eyes again, squeezing her hand to reinforce the point. “I think I might have a huge crush on Captain America.” 

Her light chuckle was all relief, Tony could tell. Pepper was probably bracing for worst case scenarios, knowing her. Knowing _him._

“I’m serious!” he protested, voice going up an octave. 

“I know you are,” she answered gently. “We’ve talked about this, Tony, you’re you, I’m me, and we’re both so busy most of the time…” 

“Hell, Pep, I didn’t think you were _serious_ , that you would be okay with… boinking outside the lines. I’m doing very well at this monogamy thing, I _like_ it, I can’t imagine being with anybody if I’m not with you.” 

_Boinking_ got a small roll of the eyes, but she nodded. “It does go both ways, Tony. Even if neither of us have really explored the option. Besides, I wouldn’t have been by your side so long if I was the jealous type.” 

“I guess so. That’s… I mean, I don’t know how Steve feels at _all_ , it doesn’t really matter. He’s from the 40’s Peppy, if he’s into anybody with marriage tackle he’s probably so repressed that he could use his sexuality to make apple cider.” 

“That was a very odd metaphor.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do.” She sighed, but was smiling and seemed unconcerned, less wound-up than when she’d walked in the door. 

Pepper scooted closer to him, lifting up her legs to curl them over his lap as she leaned in. Tony responded by wrapping his arm around her, head against her shoulder. 

“He might know. Maria called me a few weeks ago and asked some leading questions about why Bruce is living here. I might have wheedled some intel out of her,” Pepper revealed. 

“You gorgeous minx.” 

“She said something about shameless flirtation directed more or less at the same target.” 

“I thought I flirted with everybody.” He grinned against her lapel and slipped his hand on her knee, sliding slowly up her thigh, as if hoping to get away with something he wasn’t supposed to. The thin beige pantyhose was silky, kept snagging a little on his calloused fingers. 

“Maria was probably calculating from baseline, honey.” 

Pepper already knew. He should have known. 

Tony squeezed her waist and lifted his head up enough to kiss her neck, just under her ear, where she liked. It always made her smile a little wider, feel a little warmer, and then was no exception. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured. 

Pepper ran her fingers through his hair; he would have purred if he were a cat. 

“Apologies, sir,” JARVIS sheepishly cut in. “I’m afraid there is a situation requiring your immediate attention.” 

“Are you sure?” Tony groaned. 

“Energy readings similar to those generated by the Tesseract portal have been detected in Eastern Europe. Sub-Director Hill is on the line for you.” 

Pepper was already swinging her legs down so Tony could get up, a resigned smile on her face. 

“I’m sorry, light of my life, swan of my lake, eagle in my sky,” Tony rushed as he hopped up, then immediately leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“Go save the world, hero man. But talk to the boy you like.” 

Tony shook his head helplessly, briefly cupping her cheek as he kissed her lips. 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“Don’t I know it. Maybe _I_ should call Bruce up.” 

Tony laughed and blew her a kiss as he ran up to the gantry, being fitted in reverse of earlier, the armor being strapped over his clothes, no time to get the catsuit on. He was already calculating how long it would take him to fly to Eastern Europe. Too long for anything. If some kind of ‘anything’ was about to explode or pour aliens out of the sky. 

“JARVIS,” he said into the helmet, the instant it was on his head. “Calculate a sub-orbital hop to the coordinates. Hill, I have you?” 

“Sir,” she replied. 

“What are we looking at?” 

“We have a unit in the area, sir, I would strongly suggest returning to the Helicarrier to oversee the operation.” 

“Hill…” he started, warningly, but she cut him off again. 

“Your place is on the bridge.” 

“Captain of the ship?” he answered, sounding unexpectedly tired to his ears, already starting to relent; she had a point. It would be hours before he could get there. But the Helicarrier was minutes away. Tony stopped on the edge of the balcony platform, hands on his hips instead of taking off. 

“Leadership is a bitch, sir.” 

“And so are you, it’s your best quality as far as I’m concerned,” he answered, but without malice; he knew she knew what he meant, a _compliment_ , and the little amused huff over the line was confirmation. “Fine. Get Banner and Selvig up on the good ship SHIELD so they can look at the data, put them through to me if they decline. What’s the ETA of the team in Serbia to where’s it?” 

Now he took off, shooting toward the ‘Carrier at full-tilt. Less velocity and radiation than a sub-orbital hop, but he wasn’t counting out the possibility he might need to do that if something messy was going to come out of that portal. Maria kept talking, one of his twin lifelines of data. 

“JARVIS, give me some visuals,” he murmured. 

“Satellite coverage will not be available for ten minutes, thirty-seven seconds.” 

“Well, shit.” 

It took a little less than that to get to the ‘Carrier. Tony landed up top and walked down to the carpet in his suit, helmet under his arm. 

It was a buzz of activity, some of the agents on the screens down below shouting to each other, Agent Hill immediately at his side and talking into his ear as he looked at the data they’d collected so far on one screen, the positions of the anomaly and his agents on a map beside that. Their readings were showing a sharp fall-off of the energy source; he didn’t know if that should make him more or less concerned, if it was a portal and it was closed now. Maybe having done its job without so much as a fuzzy snapshot of _what_ on their end. Yet. 

He mentally reminded himself of where the other Avengers all were, just in case. Most of them were SHIELD now, in one way or another; the actual SHIELD agents were, unfortunately, in South America. Busy and best to leave without distractions for the next three days, unless the world was about to end. Again. The other two were probably going to be onboard any minute, which left Thor. 

“Call Dr. Foster, for Thor,” Tony decided. “If he can get to the location in less than an hour, ask if he’d be so kind. With coms, if he hasn’t fried it yet. It could be one of his.” 

Captain of the ship, watching, not out there doing it himself. That was the worst part of the job.


End file.
